Living with My Ex-Girlfriend

Some people require space when they breakup with someone, but that’s not how this one went.

Sofie Mikhaylova
Wed, Feb 03 2016

My girlfriend and I met on OkCupid. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, and she certainly wasn’t looking for me. I just wanted to get over the last girl that broke my heart – and the last thing I wanted was something else that would emotionally destroy me.

I’ll call her Gaby. I liked Gaby because she didn’t pressure me to date her fully. I liked her because she was down-to-earth and nice. I liked her because she had a strong personality and she liked my jokes. I liked her because she didn’t remind me of anybody else, and that was unbelievably attractive to me.

There was a mutual draw that encouraged us to casually see each other for three months – until I finally gave in and agreed to call it a relationship.

“Okay,” I said one night at a concert. “You can be my girlfriend.”

I chose to ignore the fact that I had already confessed I loved her a few weeks prior, while drunk and walking down the street. She was the sober one in the relationship. To make up for her maturity, I decided to skyrocket my irresponsibility to new heights. “I’ll drink for the both of us,” I often said when we were out in public, and then she’d carry me home late at night. She drove; the truck was often pulled over on side streets so I could vomit up the night’s mistakes.

We dated for eight months and then, when we were both separately looking for new apartments, we decided to move in together.

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